Strawberry Gloss
by forgiven4ever
Summary: A taste of something he never thought he would experience.


-Strawberry Gloss-

It was cool outside Soul perceived as a soft breeze still clinging onto the chill from the winter season brushed past his left cheek and crept down his neck causing the scythe weapon to cringe and tightened his body in a vain attempt to keep him protected from the cruel breezes. He hated being outside in the night. The sudden drop in temperature and the damn bugs irritated him so, but it was worth facing that rather than mingling with the people inside the ballroom of the Death Weapon and Meister Academy celebrating the foundation of the school also known as April Fool's Day. The weather was certainly celebrating the holiday of April Fools for it was supposed to be warm tonight. Bipolar weather is not cool.

Diverting all his attention upon his glass of orange sherbet punch as if it was the most fascinating thing on earth, Soul began to swirl the contents in the champagne glass bored with his evening as he crouched over and settled himself upon the stone railing that bordered the balcony. A lot of things were preying on his mind, but the most perplexing was the dream with the demon. It was not the demon that made him wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and his heart racing in tremendous speed. It was his meister Maka's role in his dream that scared him. The look on her face in his dream, it was a look of disgust and fear. Soul never wanted to see that on her face and he would do anything to prevent that from ever happening.

The cheesy music that was playing inside drifted outside to his location, breaking Soul's line of thought. He started thinking about the gala bustling about inside. The people all dressed up and eating delicately and dancing together, save Black Star. He did not fit with the people here so why on earth did he come? Maka forced him to come of course.

The things he put up being Maka's partner. Why did he deal with her attitude? Why did he deal with her over tenacious study habits? Why did he deal with her Maka Chops and her constant smacking? If she was any other girl, he would have left her long ago. But she was not any other girl. She was the only one who would accept him who he was. No other was able to do so, only Maka.

Soul remembered the day he played the piano for Maka for the first time. Once he finished his piano piece, he froze and tensed up because he heard nothing from the girl who could be a formidable partner. This happened every time when he played for someone who showed great potential in being his partner. Silence would follow and then the sound of footsteps leaving the room. This time, Soul dared to turn to face the person.

"This is who I am," he said to her softly, waiting for her to turn on her heel and leave him alone with the piano, his only companion.

The response he received was something he never comprehended. The girl, Maka Albarn, quirked her lips into a soft smile and held out her hand for him to seal the proposition of being weapon and meister together.

Again, the piano playing that cheesy music brought him back to the present and back on his current situation. The cool weather was about to force him back inside, but he did not want to go in to watch his classmates and fellow students pretend for the night. He hated how people pretended to be fake in order to be accepted.

"This kind of fancy party really isn't my scene," he muttered as he continued to swirl his punch in the glass.

"Soul."

Her soft voice called out to him.

Soul turned his head toward the sound of the voice and acknowledged. "Huh? Hey, Maka. What's up?"

The girl was wearing a red dress which was held up by simple straps, but it covered her well down to her thighs. A layer of a material of a pink color covered more of her legs but not enough to reach her knees. A belt-like choker was clamped around her neck, and a bracelet of the same material captured her left wrist. Her shoes were white sandals with kitten heels. Maka was never the type to wear heels, and often looked down at the thought of them with disgust. In her hands was a clear plastic plate decorated with an assortment of foods. At the sight of the food upon the plate made Soul's mouth unintentionally watered, he forgot the catering that was being served tonight and his stomach was beginning to crave for it.

"The food's really great tonight, don't you want to eat something?" his meister asked, almost making Soul jump at the sound of her voice since he was ogling at the food on her plate.

Even though he was on the brink of leaving the balcony to get his own plate, Soul remembered the others inside and the thought of the long line for the delicious food that awaited him. He would have to deal with his hunger until they go back home. It was a sacrifice he would endure rather than going back into that godforsaken gala.

"I don't feel like standing in line for some food," Soul answered with a careless shrug, trying to hide his real reasons. "Besides eating while you're standing is awkward."

Maka stabbed her metal fork into a doomed slice of sausage. "You're missing out, Soul," she told him lightheartedly, raising the fork to her mouth and delicately wrapped her lips around the skewered sausage. Soul turned away as she chewed the sausage with an expression that looked like she was in pure heaven or at least tasting that pure heaven. "This stuff's delicious."

Soul turned to face her again. "Fine, then give me some of yours," he suggested, hiding his lace of hope. If Maka shared her plate with him, he would not have to go back inside with those people and stand in line for thirty minutes. Problem solved.

Maka responded by holding her plate closer to her as if protecting her cub from a pack of hyenas with a look of annoyance on her face. "Nope."

"Food hog," Soul mumbled, turning to face the black inky sky again. He should not be surprised. Maka never shared her food with him. Sure, she loved preparing it and making her guests food, but once she has her own plate, she would protect that plate as if her life depended on it.

As Soul tried to distract his small craving for Maka's food by admiring the sky, he did not noticed the said girl walked up to the railing space beside him and set her plate of food upon the space between them before settling herself in a comfortable position by leaning against the cold stone railing and let her elbows rest upon the rough granite. The weapon also did not perceive that his meister's green eyes rested upon him filled with worry.

"Uh, Soul?" her voice was laced with hidden emotion, Soul observed as he continued to count the endless stars. "It seems like something's been eating at you lately."

Soul's heart clenched at the sound of that accusation. It was true his behavior changed some in the past few days but he thought Maka would brush it off as traumatic stress or something that related to that incident in Italy. This conversation was heading somewhere not cool.

"Huh?" Soul questioned innocently, playing the dumb look on his face when he looked towards Maka. "What makes you say that?"

For a couple of seconds, Maka did not reply to his inquiry and looked as though her thoughts were taking a long journey deep inside her mind. She finally came back to the present world outside her mind by closing her eyes and let out a small cough which sounded forced. "You can talk to me about these things, you know?" she suddenly blurted out which confused Soul, but in the end he shrugged it off.

"Sure," he agreed, turning away from her to look out into the night once again. "But nothing's wrong."

A slight growl was his answer, and Soul knew that growl from his meister anywhere. It was not the type a growl she would use when she was frustrated with her homework and it was not the type of growl she would used when her father was around or even his named was dared uttered in her presence. That left the only option; she was frustrated with him and that growl frightened him some. He immediately gave his full attention to her pouting face.

"What is it?" he asked, hoping that she would informed him what he was doing wrong, even if his tie was crooked, something that could drive Maka away from this current mood.

Instead of telling him, Maka pursed her lips and tilted her head back, her emerald eyes hidden from the world. "So that's how it is," she finally murmured in a disappointed tone. "You think I'm an unreliable partner, don't you?"

Such a humorous statement from the blond scythe meister! Maka was hardly the definition of unreliable. What put that though in her head? Soul could not contain himself and began to throw his head back, letting out a hearty laugh at the ridiculous statement. This was also an opportunity to tease his meister, something Soul loved to do.

"You said it, not me," he said with triumphant cackle.

She moved so fast, he did not see the balled up fists aiming for his head. The first hit dazed him and knocked him off balance, causing the albino haired weapon to drop his beloved glass of orange sherbet punch. The glass itself bounced off the stone flooring, its precious liquid soaring into the air before splattering upon the floor as if it was a sad attempt to rescue the glass which shattered upon the floor. But that glass was forgotten a moment later when another blow to Soul's head brought him back to the present. The teenager was now in a sitting position and crossed his arms over his head to protect it from the never ceasing, oncoming blows. It did him no good.

"Whatever!" Maka shouted in-between blows. "Like you are in the mood to talk! You're not so great!" At that last statement, to Soul's surprise, the pounding he was receiving to his head suddenly stopped. Glancing up, wincing as he did so, Soul perceived Maka still in a slightly bent position and her arms were raised for another strike, but she was looking in the direction of the bustling crowd inside Shibusen's ballroom. Her emerald eyes lit up as an idea crept into her head.

"Yeah!" she suddenly exclaimed in a cheerful voice before turning to her weapon partner with a wide smile across her face. "Let's dance!"

Soul was dumfounded. "Huh?" He could swear his meister was sometimes either bipolar or ADHD. What suddenly brought up this suggestion? Nonetheless, Soul flat out refused. "Forget about it. I don't wanna," he all but whined.

Maka in turn pouted at her weapon. "Oh, come on," she encouraged, but that alone would not persuade the scythe. Flattery was always a good card to play. "You know you're a good dancer, Soul."

His deadpanned expression did not go away so Maka switched to a new tactic. "I'll let you lead," she told him just before adding a statement that only Maka would make. "Besides dancing is good for matching soul wavelengths," she informed Soul, reaching down and tugging on his left arm. "So quit arguing."

Before Maka could even have the chance of pulling Soul up to his feet, Spirit came out of nowhere. Soul was relieved. The albino scythe never thought he would be thankful to see Maka's perverted creep of a father, but he did to his surprise. Soul watched Spirit begging on bended knee for his daughter to dance with him who was flatly refusing him. The situation before him was perfect and all it needed was a little push from Soul. The mere mentioning that children should bond with their parents made Spirit ecstatic at the new excuse for his daughter to dance with him. Agreeing with the weapon for the first, and most likely the last time, Spirit grabbed his teenaged daughter's left hand and began to drag her reluctant self to the dance floor of the ballroom.

"All right!" she all but yelled, letting her father guide her to his desired spot in the middle of the dance floor. "You win!" she capitulated before stealing one more glance at her traitor of a weapon. "Soul, guard my food, will ya?" she requested earnestly before the crowds swallowed her up with no intent of letting her go anytime soon.

Soul looked down over at the plate filled with delicious assortment of appetizers with jaded interest. "She wants me to guard her food, yet she refuses to let me have any," he muttered sourly, turning away from the offending plate of food that was forbidden for him to touch when something caught his maroon eyes. A bright peach color lingering upon the right side of the plastic plate and was so innocently nestled between the sausage and the egg rolls. Soul knew that color from anywhere. It was salmon, which was on the top of Maka's gross foods list.

"She can't stand raw fish," Soul remembered, walking over to the plate. "What's she doing getting salmon from the buffet?" Sighing, he shook his head. Sometimes he could never understand his meister. "Fickle woman," he mumbled, looking down at the plate once again and taking in Maka's food selection for the night. Sausage, one of Maka's favorites and his, was resting upon the upper right side of the plate. The prepared eggrolls styled in a fancy way was on the lower right side of the dish which Maka would eat but not all the time like he would. But what really confused him was the four pieces of raw salmon that rested upon the center of the plate. Maka hated salmon with a passion as much as Soul loved it. She would never prepare it for him unless it was his birthday, so why did she…

Realization hit Soul like a hard cold slap to the face. "Oh, it's for me," he comprehend, still slightly confused at Maka's actions. Picking up the fork that laid upon the plate next to the delicious food, Soul let a smile sneak up on him as he stabbed an unsuspecting slice of salmon. The sight of the raw fish that was so near made his mouth water. "Oh well," he murmured with a smile still upon his face.

"It sure looks good," he noticed before placing the sweet, juicy, raw fish into his mouth and savored the taste. Once he swallowed the slice of salmon, he licked his lips in hope for more of the juices from the fish. Instead of the fish, Soul tasted the metallic taste from the fork and something else. It was sticky and had a small aftertaste similar to artificial strawberry. Blinking confusedly, Soul looked down at the fork and found the source of the strange substance that was on his lips. It was traces of gloss that came from Maka when she used the fork to eat a slice of sausage and it was her favorite type; strawberry gloss.

Thinking of her again, Soul absentmindedly licked his lips again once again sampling the strawberry lip gloss. It suited Maka well now that Soul thought on the subject. His thoughts lingered on how Maka, his meister, his friend, his partner, was the only one who fully accepted him. He remembered shamefully how he so casually mention he would never go out with a flat-chested girl like her, but the truth was he didn't care what size her assets were. He mentioned it to her once, but he did not think she understood him fully.

"_In the end, the shape and form don't matter at all. It's just the soul that matters, right? Nothing else."_

Again Soul licked his lips, tasting the last bit of the strawberry gloss that remained on his mouth. Maybe one of these days, Soul will admit to Maka that he admired her greatly. Maybe one of these days, Soul will confess to Maka that he likes the taste of her strawberry gloss. Maybe one of these days, Maka will allow Soul to sample her strawberry gloss once again and it would not come from a fork.

* * *

**(A/N)** Wow, my first Soul Eater fanfiction. About time too, I should have written one sooner since it's my new favorite anime and it rocks my world. So I was watching episode 22 and this little plot bunny came to my door and I could not resist. Go SOULXMAKA! Hope you enjoyed it, I might write more. Mwhahahaha. Happy New Year! Hello, 2011!


End file.
